


The Courting of Stiles Stilinski: aka, Books, Sex, and Friends

by hopefulwriter27



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-20
Updated: 2012-06-28
Packaged: 2017-11-08 04:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopefulwriter27/pseuds/hopefulwriter27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek wants Stiles in his pack, and begins to court him. Stiles and Scott freak out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off a Teen Wolf Kink Meme Prompt. (http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/4407.html?page=4#comments)
> 
> Also, the title might change. 
> 
> Feedback is lovely and always welcome.
> 
> Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. I'm just playing.

 ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_Pack keeps you safe, keeps you sane. Pack is necessary for our survival. We thrive together or wither alone._

_~Charles Hale, March 18,1912_

 ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

 _Unexpected guests showing up in the middle of the night shouldn’t be normal,_ Stiles thinks. He knows it’s Derek, because Scott always knocks on the glass first. Derek just yanks open the broken pane and slips inside.  Stiles rolls over in his bed and squeezes his eyes shut. _Maybe he’ll go away._ His legs and arms ache. The littlest movement sends pulling throbs through his back. _Treading water for a couple of hours will do that to you._

Stiles doesn’t hear him cross the room, but he does hear the harsh exhale of breath as Derek presses his knees into the side of Stiles’ mattress. “Stiles,” Derek says quietly. Stiles can hear the television on in his dad’s room across the hall. Not a good idea to be noticed by the Sheriff.  When Stiles doesn’t respond, Derek says his name again- harsher this time. “Stiles, I know you’re awake.”

He presses his head into his pillow and replies, “Go away Derek. I’m tired and don’t the energy to deal with any more of your wolfiness tonight.”

Stiles imagines the frown on Derek’s face. He doesn’t have to see the wolf to know his mouth is pulled downwards. A hand touches his bicep, but before Stiles can lurch out of bed in shock, a large book is laid on the space next to his chest. “I just wanted to say thank you. For today.” Then the hand is gone. Stiles twists, blanket catching around his knees and feet. He half-falls, half-jumps out of bed.

His room is empty, and his window is open. He shuts it, because it’s raining and he’s had enough of being wet for the day. Moonlight shines across the floor and lands on the book Derek left. Stiles thinks of his aching body, of the midnight hour, and of Derek f-ing Hale.

He slips back into bed, clicking on the nightstand light as he goes. He runs his fingers over the black leather cover.  Golden spirals curl at the corners. They feel rough under his fingertips. Thereare no words-- just the golden design and wolf head etched in the middle.

 

###

“You look awful,” Scott says to him first thing the next day.

Stiles rubs his palm over his eyes and says, “I feel awful. Besides every muscle in my body is hating every move I make-- Derek stopped by last night.”

“What!” Scott shouts. The other two students in the hall send them sideways glances but keep walking. Pretty much everyone at Beacon Hill High School is used to Scott and Stiles’ loudness. “Are you okay?”

Stiles nods, then winces. His neck is extra sore from reading all night. “Yeah. He didn’t do anything. Actually, he thanked me and gave me a book.”

Scott’s nose wrinkles, as if he’s figuring out an Algebra problem. “He gave you a book? Like Tale of Two Cities or something?”

Stiles stops walking and gives his friend the ‘did you really just say that?’ look. “Actually, it’s more like journal.”

“Derek gave you his journal?” Scotts asks, eyebrows to his hairline.

“It’s not his. Well, it’s his as in the sense he owned it, but it’s written from decades of Hale family members. Like an heirloom. It has personal excerpts, facts about werewolves, and every recipes for good rabbit stew.” Stiles flips his backpack to his front and unzips the main pocket. Scott peers inside. “It’s like a hundred years old. I was up all night and I’m only halfway through.” Scott sniffs, as if he can absorb the content of the book by smell, then leans back.

“Why would Derek give you that?”

Stiles closes his bag and shrugs. “I don’t know. After your little outburst last night about working together, maybe this is his olive branch. Maybe he wants me to do research.”

Suddenly, Scott’s shoulders snap straight, and Stiles thinks, _here comes Allison._

“Maybe we should try to find him after school and ask,” Scotts says. He throws his backpack over his shoulder and glances around Stiles. “Hey, can we talk about this later. I want to see Allison before class starts.”

Stiles sighs. “Go on,” he says with a wave. His friend doesn’t need to be told twice. With a small leap forward, Scott jogs down the hall then disappears around the corner.  “Guess I’ll do all the work myself. Like usual.”

Except, by the time fourth period Geometry rolls around, Stiles feels like he stepped into a sauna. The world is stuffy, his head hurts more than his overworked muscles, and he can barely keep his eyes open. “Mr. Stiles,” Mr. Anderson says from beside his desk. “I’m writing you a pass to the nurse. Go home.”

He stumbles to nurse’s office. She calls his dad. “He didn’t answer,” she tells him. “I left him a message. You can lay down until he calls back.” Stiles eyes the cot on the floor and grimaces. _Why did Dad have to impound my truck?_

“I can take him home,” Erica says from the doorway.

“No, that’s okay,” Stiles says. His throat is dry and he needs a tissue. _I wish I stopped by the cafeteria for an orange juice._

Erica smiles. It’s reminiscent of the sweet one she used before the bite. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Really, it’s no problem Mrs. Jennings. I leave for my college classes now, and Stiles’ house is right along the way.” Her eyes look soft as they fool the nurse. “Plus, I think you need to go to bed.”

So then, Stiles finds himself sitting in _Derek’s_ car, because, of course, Erica is driving Derek’s car. “If you try to hurt me I’ll puke on you,” Stiles says as they drive out of the school parking lot.  She gives him her new smile. It scares him as much as Derek’s stare. He clutches his bag to his chest, like a shield, but Erica doesn’t do anything but drive.

Somehow, he falls asleep. Beacon Hills, from city start to end, is no more than fifteen miles. Excluding the nature preserve and all the forestry, going from one place to another doesn’t take more than ten minutes by car. That stated, he couldn’t have been asleep more than a few minutes when the sound of the passenger side door opening wakes him.

Stiles blinks the drowsiness from his eyes. Erica’s very attractive behind captures his attention as she walks into the abandoned sawmill ahead. “Are you living here?” he asks.

Derek takes his bag and waits for Stiles to stumble from the car. “It’s one of the places we stay.” The answer is typical Derek- all mystery and non-information.

“I thought Erica was taking me home.” Derek doesn’t answer. He just turns toward the building and begins to walk. Normally, curiosity is enough to prompt Stiles into following dangerous men into broken-down buildings, but he’s beyond tired and wants nothing more than to crawl in his bed and sleep for the next year. “No,” he says. Derek stops, but doesn’t turn around. “No,” Stiles says again. “I’m not putting up with this.”

Derek turns. His eyes flash red. “I don’t want to play your stupid games today. I spent a good portion of my youth treading water yesterday- to keep you alive if you remember- and then I spent most of the night reading the book you conveniently left in my bedroom.” His hands come up as his voice rises. “I feel like I might die any moment. And I don’t want to go into the ramshackle building.”

For a moment, Stiles thinks he’s gone too far. It’s happened once or twice in life. Sometimes his mouth runs away from his brain, spewing words he’s unable to take back. Then, Derek frowns. It’s not his ’I’m pissed and I’m going to throw you against the wall frown.’ His eyes narrow and lines pucker around the corners. If it were anyone else, Stiles would call the look worried.   _This is Derek, and the only things he worries about are the Argents and other Alphas and strange lizard creatures._ He doesn’t worry about Stiles.

He comes to Stiles’s side. His nostrils flare, scenting, and he says, “Okay. I’ll take you home.”

Surprise flutters through Stile’s stomach. _Completely didn’t think that would work._ Derek reaches around him and opens the car door again. When Stiles doesn’t immediately hop back inside, Derek’s hand curls around the back of his neck, fingers spread wide, and guides him into the seat.

 _Derek’s hand is on my neck._ It’s not the first time Derek’s touched him. He’s grabbed Stiles’ shirt in annoyance and pushed his shoulders in tightly controlled anger. The touches have never been like this though. His fingers are warm- though that might just be the heat of Stiles’ budding fever- and gentle. When Stiles leans back against the leather seat, Derek’s thumb drags briefly along curve of his neck, right where his pulse beats.

Derek closes the door and heads towards his own seat. Stiles’ feels strange. His skin tingles and the whole world seems slow. After Derek closes the driver’s side door, he tosses Stiles’ bag in the small back area, and reaches across Stiles’ body for the seatbelt. His breath ghosts along Stiles’ jaw. It feels intimate and out-of-place.  

Then, Derek is against his own seat and starting the car. They don’t talk, which is a testament to Stiles’ illness and the strangeness that hangs in the air. Stiles stares out the window as they drive, watching the trees pass. Every so often he can feel the weight of Derek’s eyes.

They pull into his driveway, neither his Dad’s cruiser nor his own jeep are there. Derek doesn’t cut the engine. He idles in park, waiting. For what, Stiles doesn’t know.

“Thanks,” he says. Stiles unbuckles and grabs his bag. Derek is quiet. He swings his legs out of the car and braces his hand on the frame for leverage. He hesitates, looks at the Alpha, and adds, “And thanks for the book.”

Derek nods.

Stiles is at his front door, looking for his keys, when Derek rolls down his window and says, “Feel better.” The engine revs, and Derek peels out of the driveway in one quick motion. Stiles stares at the car until it disappears down the street.

 _What the hell?_ He goes inside and trucks up to his room. He toes off his shoes as he flops in bed, and his last though before sleep devours his conscious is, _I don’t think I’ll ever understand that man. Wolf. Whatever._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

_Hunters have killed Nicolas. He wasn’t one of our best. Greed and pride plagued his soul. Still, he was my brother and I grieve for him. I pray his soul is with our Holy Father. Bill and I are taking Elaine and Margaret to help them lay their father to rest. Pastor Blackburn will not come. He says we are demons and deserve eternal damnation._

_We are not demons. Wolves are not demons. We are family. We are loved ones. Some of us do bad things, just as humans do. Others of us strive to do good every day of our lives. We protect and serve. My own two boys, Michael and Charlie, are across the ocean fighting for freedom and our country. They will make sure the Nazis do not win._

_After the funeral we will have to disappear for a while. Possibly a few years. The hunters know our home and will stop at nothing to see us all burned to the ground. We might join Aaron’s pack in California. Bill’s cousin has helped settle a small town called Beacon Hills. He says there are endless forests for running._

_Whatever happens, we will always have our family. Our pack._

_~Emma Hale October 1 st, 1943_

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It takes four days for Stiles to begin to feel normal again. He spends two days sweating out every drop of moisture in his body, and two days drinking gallons of juice and hot tea. His dad hovers like a mother hen, sticking a thermometer in his mouth every few hours when he’s home and bringing him toast and eggs. On the fifth day, Stiles wakes up and he can breathe from his nose again.  It’s a miraculous feeling, He celebrates by taking one more day off school to read Derek’s book. His dad goes to work, leaving him with money to order pizza. Stiles calls the pizza shop at eleven-o-one and orders an extra large veggie lover's supreme. He eats for the first time in days, stays in his pajamas, and reads.

He gets a text from Scott around two-thirty. _U feeling ne better?_

 _Ya,_ Stiles types back. _Eating pizza._

About three seconds go by. _Want company?_  

The answer is usually yes. Scott has been his best friend from the time they both were chosen last for baseball in second grade. Scott was there through his mother’s death, and Stiles has been there for the McCall’s divorce and that special bite. Today however, Stiles wants to read. He wants to learn about werewolves, about Derek Hale’s family. Scott and reading have never gone together. _Maybe later._ Stiles flips his phone length-wise for the bigger keyboard. _I’m reading Derek’s book. Come by after dinner._

Scott texts his back. _Allison and I are hanging out-_ which Stiles knows is code for having sex, lucky bastard- _how about tomorrow morning?_

Stiles nods then types, _10?_

_10._

Stiles reaches across his bed to the open pizza box sitting on his blanket. He grabs a slice and takes a bite. _See ya then._

He tosses his phone to his pillow and flips the journal back open.

###

Scott arrives just as Stiles pulls the last plate from the dishwasher. “You look better,” he says, and, “You don’t smell like death anymore.”

Stiles pauses, then stares at his friend. “You could smell my sickness?”

Scott’s hair flops over his eyes as he nods. “That last day at school. You didn’t smell like yourself. Kind of… gross.”

“That’s…” Stiles stops for a moment to gather his words. “Pretty damn awesome.”

Scott rolls his eyes and throws himself into the nearest kitchen chair. “So,” Scott says.

“This thing is crazy!” Stiles replies, yanking out the chair next to Scott’s. His forearms whack against the edge as he leans against the tabletop. He pushes his math book from the top of his pile, and grabs the leather diary.

“Does it talk about the kanima?”

Stiles shakes his head. “Not that I can find.” He flips open to a random page and tapes the paper. “I’ve read the whole thing through once. I’ve marked a few pages as possible things to note.” He thumbs one of the yellow post-its sticking up from the top of the book.  “There is a page that talks about something that seems like Bigfoot.”

His friend’s mouth drops open. “You’re kidding me!”

“Nope.” Energy boils up in his chest and Stiles says, “Most of the book is all about Derek’s family. It covers more than a hundred years. It talks about hunters and werewolves. In fact,” Stiles skips past the first dozen post-its then slows down as he looks through the pages, “look at this.”

He turns the book around so Scott can see. His friend begins to read, but Stiles is too impatient to wait. “It’s a recipe for werewolf birth control, meant for the ladies of the species.” Scott’s head jerks up and he blinks at Stiles. “Apparently, Derek’s grandma didn’t want to be a baby-mama at sixteen. Female werewolves change twice a month- once at the full moon and once at the new moon.” Stiles wiggles his fingers and smirks. “And they get super horny. But, if they take this beforehand, they can get busy without getting knocked up.”

“Regular birth control doesn’t work for them?” Scott asks.

“Nope,” Stiles replies. “Just dissolves right through their system like water.” He slaps Scott on the arm. “Just like you and alcohol!”

“Why would Derek give you a book about his family history and werewolf home remedies?”  Scott asks. “Why not something that can help us with the kanima?”

Stiles hops up from his chair and shrugs. “I don’t know, but  I don’t really care either. The book is awesome, and it will come in handy sometime or another.”

Scott frowns, then says, “Are there any entries from Derek?”

Stiles freezes for a moment then goes back to beating his fingers against the back of the chair. “No, nothing from Derek.” He reaches forward and picks up the book. “There is something from Laura though.” He turns the pages softly, heading towards the end.

“July fifth, two-thousand and two,” Stiles reads. “Derek, Peter and I are the only ones left.” His voice is grave. They’ve seen Laura’s body. She’s Derek’s sister, and as real as the absent parents in their lives. “There was a fire. The human cops don’t know who set it, but I know that it was those hunters, the Argents. It’s been three months. Uncle Peter is still in the hospital, showing no signs of healing. The human doctors think he’s going to die.”

His throat is suddenly dry, and Stiles swallows to moisten it. He doesn’t look at Scott, but he hears his friend moving in his seat. No one says aloud that maybe Peter should have died. Stiles keeps reading. “Derek’s a mess. He wakes up every night screaming, crying for Mom and Dad, for Benny and Emily. I try to comfort him. It’s my job. I’m the oldest, the Alpha now. But, some days I can’t hold or hug him. I hear their cries, their never-ending screams of pain as the flames burn them alive.”

“God _,”_ Scott whispers.   

Stiles begins to pace as he continues. “I don’t know if I can handle it. I’m not supposed to be Alpha until I’m old. Dad told me I’d fall in love and find a mate. He told me that he’d walk me down the aisle on my wedding day.” There are spots on the pages here. Discolored dimed-size places. Stiles can’t stop himself from brushing a fingertip across each one. He knows that they aren’t the only tears spilled over this book. The fire wasn’t the first undeserved persecution of the Hale family.

“I don’t know where to go, or what to do. The hunters are on our trail. Jeff’s pack in New York isn’t returning my calls. Jason has told us not to come to Nevada. I’m so scared, but all Derek and I can do is run. Signed, Laura Hale.”

There’s a lump in his chest, pressing down on his heart, and Stiles knows that he’ll never forget Laura Hale’s only entry in this book for the rest of his life. He closes the journal and looks at Scott. His friend is pale and his face is drawn. The words hang in the air, controlling and depressing. Neither boy speaks as they process. Eventually, Stiles can’t take it anymore. “It’s uh, definitely more powerful out loud.”

“Do you think Derek wants us to feel sorry for him?” Scott asks gravely.

It’s something Stiles has considered. “Well, if that was his planned, it worked.”

Scott jumps up from his chair. He drags a hand through his hair and says, “I just don’t understand any of this! Does Derek think that I’ll forgive him for everything he’s done and just join his pack? Feeling bad for him doesn’t mean I want to help him create a pack big enough for revenge.”

 _Revenge._ Stiles understands the word. He understands why Derek would want revenge, but it doesn’t sit right with him. “I don’t think he wants revenge.”

Scott stops.

“I think he wants to feel safe.” It’s what Stiles wanted after his mother died. He wants the comfort she provided. “Derek’s family is gone. His pack is gone. He’s trying to build a new one.” Ideas start swirling in his head. “Think about it. He wants to build a big enough pack that he doesn’t have to worry about the hunters destroying his family again.” Scott frowns and opens his mouth, but Stiles doesn’t let him talk. “But, Derek wasn’t meant to be Alpha. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing. All he knows is that he needs werewolves he can control, but still powerful enough to provide support for each other.”

“Why does he still want me?”

Stiles swipes his friend’s should with the back of his hand. “After Derek, you have the most control over your wolf. You’re the strongest, but,” Stiles holds up his finger. “You don’t want to be Alpha.”

“Of course I don’t!” Scott shouts.

“What about Erica? About Boyd? Do you think they feel the same?”

Scott shrugs.

“Really, other than being turned, they don’t have any loyalty to Derek. There’s always going to be a chance that they might kill him to become Alpha.”

“So what does that mean? Should I just join Derek’s pack to help keep him safe?” Scott throws up his hands.

“No!” Stiles sighs. “No, what it means is that I need more time to think. We need to come up with a plan. Maybe I should read the book again.” He glances at the journal.

“I don’t know,” Scott says.

Stiles is already tucking the book under his arm picking up Scott’s bag. “Give me another few hours to look through the book and think. Come back later.”

Scott sighs and slips his back over his shoulder. Stiles walks him to the back door and ushers him out. “Don’t you have a secret rendezvous with Allison anyways?” Scott bites at his lip.  “Go on,” Stiles urges. “I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” Scott says. He hops on his bike and adds, “Don’t do anything stupid without me.”

Stiles smiles. “Do I ever?” Scott laughs and pedals away. Stiles heads back inside. Scott’s phone is sitting on the kitchen table. Stiles rolls his eyes and picks it up. A knock echoes through the room.

He walks over to the door, twists the handle, and says, “Forget something…” He stops short. A hand darts out and grabs his wrist. Scott’s phone tumbles to the floor.

“Nope,” says Isaac.

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

** Part 3 **   
  
__

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 _My third child was born today. Alice and I named him Benjamin after her father. Benjamin David Hale. Derek and Laura have been squirming at the edge of Al’s bed, wanting to kiss and smell their new brother. We’ve already told them they have to be gentle. Ben doesn’t have the wolf. It’s a bit of a surprise, because both Laura and Derek came out eyes flashing and howling. Benny’s pink and smoothed skin. We’ll love him just as much._ _  
  
_

_Peter’s on his way over to take the kids for a few hours. It will be good to let Al rest. After Ma died Peter and I thought our little pack would stay a duo forever. Meeting Alice and having our beautiful children have changed all of that. Happiness has filled our lives, and our pack is already four stronger._ _  
  
It’s time to find Peter a mate.  
  
_

 _I’m sure he’ll love me mentioning that._ _  
  
Al’s calling out my name, so I have to run. I’ll be back later though, to share about the newest member of the Hale family._ _  
  
~Michael Hale, April 1992_  
  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

  
“Isaac!” Stiles shouts. Then in a lower voice, he says, “You do know that my dad’s the sheriff and you’re _wanted_?” Isaac’s lips arch towards his nose, exposing his teeth. Yellow brightens his irises and black widens his pupils. Fear curls in Stiles belly and he tries to step back. The wolf’s grip is too strong; Stiles almost yanks his arm out of socket.  
  
“Derek wants you,” Isaac says, voice tight and low.  
  
“Oh then, let me just grab my phone and follow along like a good baby duckling,” Stiles says. _I don’t care what Derek wants!_ He yanks his hand back again, and this time Isaac lets go. The boy’s eyes stay yellow and his canines poke below the line of his lip. The Hale tomb flashes across Stiles’ brain. He sighs. “Hold on, let me leave a note for my Dad.” He steps back into the kitchen. Isaacs follows on his heels.  
  
The coiled tension in Stiles’ shoulders never leaves as he scribbles a quick note and sticks it on the fridge.   _Be back later_ , he writes. Stiles is tempted to add _,_ _if I’m not back by sundown assume I’ve been mauled by psychotic werewolves_. Instead, he writes _,_ _hanging with Scott. See you later_. He finishes with his name and smiley face with tornado-like eyebrows.  
  
This time they drive to an abandoned subway station. They take Stiles’ car, because apparently Isaac ran the eight miles and half miles from there to Stilinksi place. “What would you have done if my jeep had still been impounded?” Stiles asks. He’s only had it back a day and he had burrs in his stomach at the thought of driving into werewolf madness.  
  
Isaac doesn’t look at him when he answers. “I knew you had it.” He turns and sneers then goes back to staring out the window. All Stiles can think about is the way Isaac tried to kill him at the police station. It’s the most uncomfortable trip Stiles’ has ever taken.  
  
 _Including the time I drove Derek to the vet’s while he bled all over my seat_ , Stiles thinks. Isaac directs him to park next to the rusted metal gate that blocks off station’s empty parking lot. Stiles makes sure his phone is safe in his back pocket as he locks his door. Scott’s phone is tucked inside the passenger’s side compartment.  
  
He has to pick up his pace to keep with Isaac. The pavement is cracked and broken throughout. Grass has overgrown most of the blacktop. Hints of the once yellow lines paint the lot. The concrete steps are vandalized. _Is that a turkey?_ Stiles tilts his head. _Nope, that’s a penis_. _Perhaps more than one._

  
It’s a few degrees cooler once they step inside, which Stiles appreciates. He can hear dripping water and a low humming sound. It smells heavy and musky, like there hasn’t been fresh air down here in years, and a lot of people have done a lot of sweating. _Which is probably accurate_. As he comes down the last few steps Stiles sees an abandoned subway car, a gymnast horse, a few truck tires, and a decent sized generator with cables disappearing into the long train car. “Homey,” Stiles quips. Isaac’s gaze flickers in his direction, but he otherwise ignores Stiles. _Which is par course with my life._

Derek appears from the doorless car. He nods at Isaac who spares another glance at Stiles before disappearing back up the stairs. There’s a heartbeat of silences, then Stiles says, “Okay then…”

 

“You look better,” Derek says. His hands hover over his pockets, like he can’t decide if he should dip his fingers inside or not.

 

“Well,” Stiles says. “I can breathe again, though being down here might give me a setback.” Derek’s eyebrows arch towards the bridge of his nose. Stiles keeps talking. “Nice place you got.” He motions to the fallen beams. “You know they condemned this place in the eighties for a reason.” It was actually closed because the city ran out of money. Having a subway that only goes through a few towns wasn’t worth continuing.

 

Derek shrugs. “We won’t get sick.”

 

Stiles eyes the ceiling and says, “I was thinking more about being crushed by a slab of concrete.”

 

“We’ll be fine.” Derek’s mouth draws into a tight line and he steps closer.

 

“So,” Stiles draws out the word. He looks Derek over. The Alpha has bags under his eyes, and his shirt has seen better days. “Having trouble with the puppies?”

 

The corner of Derek’s lips lift, just a little. “They’re in their learning stages.” Then abruptly, Derek changes the subject. “Have you read the book?”

 

There’s no question about which book. Stiles nods. He has a million questions. _Why haven’t you written in it? Do you know how many other werewolf families there are? How many other books do you have? Where they burned in the fire?_ The question he voices is, “Why did you give it to me?”

 

Derek swallows. Stiles can see the motion in the bob of his neck. The werewolf stares at him, eyes narrowed and mouth thin. Just when Stiles thinks the Alpha isn’t going to answer, and words are bubbling under his tongue, ready to fill the silence, Derek says, “Come on.” He turns and walks back into the train car.

 

Stiles follows. “You know, we don’t all have night vision.” Derek flicks on a small desktop lamp. It’s not bright enough to light the whole length of the car, but it’s enough that Stiles won’t trip over the multiple backpacks littering the ground or bump into the three car benches that remain inside.  Derek sits on one of the metal benches on the right, so Stiles takes the left.

 

Stiles wants to ask the question again. He wants to ask all of his questions. Instead, he looks. Derek is pale in the low light. His face is sharp, angled by days of dark facial hair, a fast metabolism, and worry. The urge to take the man to make his mom’s famous spaghetti and meatballs is overwhelming. It’s what he makes for his dad when he’s looking worn.

 

After a minute, Derek leans forward and sets his hands on his knees. He grabs Stiles’ gaze.  “I’m not going to let the hunters, or anything else, hurt me or my pack again.”

 

It's not what Stiles expect at all. “So you gave me a book about you family to what, get Scott to stop messing in your affairs and to not care when you turn people?”

 

“No,” Derek says.

 

“You gave me the book so I can make you werewolf fertility pills?” Stiles had read that recipe twice and had to Google almost all of the ingredients.

 

“Be quite for a minute,” Derek snaps. Then, a little softer, he says, “Let me talk.”

 

Stiles mimes zipping his lips and throwing away the key. Derek rolls his eyes. “I’ve done a lot of thinking since I’ve became Alpha.” And, boy, would Stiles like to argue that point. “The wolf has been part of my family for more than a century. The Hale bloodline has been birthed over and over again. We’ve married into some human families, and we’ve turned members with the bite, but almost all of the Hales have been born as wolves.”

 

 _That’s the truth,_ Stiles thinks. Reading about all of the werewolf babies born throughout the years had surprised him.

 

“After Peter died, I thought a lot about all of the persecution my family has faced.”

 

“The fire wasn’t the first time you guys were almost wiped out,” Stiles says knowingly.

 

Derek’s eyes flash red, and Stiles winces. They fade back to green, Derek nods in acknowledgement, and continues. “I don’t want it to happen again, and I thought I’d take a different approach.”

 

Stiles isn’t stupid. “You decided to make a pack.” _Instead of breed one._

 

“Maybe if I choose the members, we’ll survive.” Derek ducks his head and stares at his hands.

 

“How’s that working out for you?” The words slip from Stiles’ lips before he can think. Derek’s head snaps up and he snarls. _Oh good, antagonize the wolf with anger management issues._ “Hey,” Stiles holds up his hands. “I’m not blind you know. I can see how Erica’s acting, how Isaac’s acting.” He hasn’t been around Boyd enough to make judgment.

 

Derek’s jaw ticks. “They like being wolves a little too much.” Derek admits.

 

“What did you expect?” Stiles asks. “You take these kids that everyone ignores or makes fun of, and give them the power they’ve always been craving. It’s no wonder it’s gone to their heads.”

 

The Alpha’s shoulders lift then drop. He scratches the back of his neck. “Honestly, I thought they’d be appreciative and loyal. I’d thought they’d become more than just pack.”

 

 _Family_ , Stiles thinks. A wave of pity sweeps through him. “Just because it hasn’t happened yet, doesn’t mean it won’t.”

 

Derek looks at him, head tilted sideways. He moves forward in his seat, feet sliding along the floor until the toes of his boots tap against Stiles’ sneakers. “That’s why I gave you the book,” he says, like that explains everything.

 

“You gave me the book so I can convince Scott to join your pack and help mellow out your younglings.” _That’s pretty much what I guessed,_ Stiles thinks. _Derek wants justification with Scott, and he wants me to be the instigator._

A sigh blows through the train car. “No,” Derek says. His boot presses more firmly against Stiles.’ “I gave you the book because I want you to understand what my family has gone through, and the type of people I need in my pack to make sure history doesn’t repeat itself.” His chest dips even further forward, giving Stiles enough light and the right height to stare into the man’s pale green eyes. “I want _you_ in my pack to mellow out the younglings.”

 

 _What?_ Stiles shakes head. _That can’t be right._ “What?”

 

“You heard me,” Derek says. ”I want you.”

 


End file.
